Home
by samvimes
Summary: When Remus Lupin breaks into a room in the Leaky Cauldron, he runs into Severus Snape, a moral dilemma, and a lot of trouble.


Written to cheer up a friend of mine, Tien, who asked for this pairing specifically.   
  
"Home" contains slash, nudity, and Severus Snape threatening to shake Remus Lupin   
  
like the dog he is. It's really rather fluffy, though. I hope you enjoy.  
  
Thanks to my betas: Jen, Yap, and of course Tien.  
  
HOME  
  
Home is the place where,  
  
When you have to go there,  
  
They have to take you in.  
  
-- Robert Frost  
  
I think, in the end, it was all the fault of a couple of Death Eaters -- fellow Death   
  
Eaters, really, I should say, as at the time my lot was unavoidably thrown in with   
  
them.  
  
It was on account of the Death Eaters that I was in Diagon Alley that August, having   
  
just emerged from a meeting with some lower-level peons, who assured me that the Dark   
  
Lord was most eager for my service, despite the fact that he sent fools and witlings   
  
to woo me. The meeting had been in Knockturn Alley, a place of shadows and dark   
  
dealings, and I was, I must admit, brooding upon the words we'd said; upon my own lot   
  
in life, a former Death Eater, not really on the side of good or bad, but somewhere   
  
in-between. Nothing seemed certain, you see. I had no assurance that, having once won   
  
my way back into Voldemort's good graces, I would not be taken wholly over. I am not   
  
so strong as all that.  
  
Voldemort.  
  
You see, there are still those unafraid to say his name.  
  
At any rate, there I was, in a poky little room above the Leaky Cauldron. I could have   
  
gone back to Hogwarts that night, I suppose, but I detest the Knight Bus and one   
  
cannot sleep on Muggle trains. I should know.   
  
I had prepared for bed, and was sitting in my dressing-gown, reading. There was no knock.   
  
There wasn't even any warning. No footsteps, no shouts, just a sudden explosion of noise   
  
as the door to my room slammed open, and a figure ducked inside. Without waiting for me   
  
to move, he raised his wand and said, in a hoarse and barely carrying voice, "Petrificus   
  
Totalus!"  
  
And I, of course, froze.  
  
The figure shut the door, leaned back against it, and took two deep breaths.   
  
"I am sorry, whoever you are," he said, in a calmer tone of voice, and I realised all   
  
he could see by the light of the lamp were my petrified hands. "You'll understand in   
  
about ten seconds -- "  
  
There were pounding feet, and the sound of a window at the far end of the hallway   
  
banging, and curses.  
  
"Out through the window and up on the roof," said a voice from outside. The figure at   
  
the door listened, carefully. "From there 'e could go anywhere. We're done here."  
  
"But if he -- "  
  
"We'll catch 'im. If 'e tries to get back to 'ogwarts or anywhere near the Ministry,   
  
we'll catch 'im."  
  
I began to wonder who was desperado and who was policeman. They did not sound like   
  
Aurors.   
  
The footsteps faded, and the figure let out a sigh of relief. "Lumos," he murmured,   
  
lighting the room. He let the little luminous ball drift up to the ceiling.  
  
"Severus Snape?" he demanded, when the light hit my face. If I could have moved at   
  
all, it would have been an even toss-up between a sneer and a gasp.  
  
"Severus, it, it's me -- Lupin," he stammered. "I'm so sorry -- here -- "   
  
He came forward, mumbling a countercurse embarrasedly. I felt life flow back into my   
  
muscles.   
  
"Well, this is good luck!" he said, putting his hands on his hips. I stared up at him,   
  
mute now not from the spell but from surprise.  
  
The man before me looked nothing like my memories of Remus Lupin, either the old ones   
  
of our school days or the more recent ones, when he had come to teach at Hogwarts.   
  
That Remus had been thin, weak -- grey already threading his light brown hair. A   
  
frail, sickly sort of man. Granted, he had put on some weight while he was a fellow   
  
teacher, but still --   
  
Standing in the flickering light of the weak lumos spell, this man looked far from   
  
helpless, far from sickly. He was still rake-thin, still without much muscle, but now   
  
it was the lean look of a hunter. His hair was dyed black. He was darkly tanned, and   
  
there were four thin, angry red lines crossing his left cheek, from the bridge of his   
  
nose to his chin. He gave me a weak smile.  
  
"You look shocked, Severus," he continued, flopping down on the bed, his legs dangling   
  
off the edge. He was wearing black, that much I could make out.   
  
"You make yourself quite at home, Lupin," I replied, closing my book and setting it   
  
aside. "In trouble, are you?"  
  
"Of a sort. Bad hats. They've been trailing me since I left -- " he struggled up on   
  
his elbows, gave me a searching look. "Well, since I left where they began trailing   
  
me."  
  
"Riddles, Lupin?"  
  
"One never knows who's listening," he answered. "You don't mind me barging in like   
  
this, do you?"  
  
"Oh no. Why should I mind being assaulted, taken advantage of, and mistrusted? My   
  
single bed is your single bed," I answered. I am afraid I'm often cross, but the world   
  
often irritates me. Remus sat up, and rested his elbows on his knees. He drew a hand   
  
across his face, winced as sweat was rubbed into the wounds.  
  
"Fudge is a fool," he said finally. "I've been working for Dumbledore. I know you have   
  
too, he's told me so. So you can consider my imposition for the night as a small   
  
working for the greater good. Then you may feel free to pretend martyrdom, Severus."  
  
"You'd better let me see to those cuts," I said, and took up my own wand. They were   
  
tricky, enchanted to resist minor healings, but I am not a minor healer. He smiled   
  
with relief as the angry lines faded to pink patches of new skin.   
  
"You always help, Severus," he said. I stood over him, looking down in amazement. "Why   
  
do you always help?"  
  
"Because I didn't, when it really mattered," I replied, setting the wand on the   
  
nightstand. "You take the bed. I've slept in chairs before."  
  
"Ta, Severus. I'm knackered," he said, removing what looked like dragonhide boots.   
  
"Merlin's grinning on me, eh? I barge into a random room in the Cauldron and there's   
  
Sev Snape, who hates me but can't resist saving poor bedraggled werewolves."  
  
"If you romanticise me again in that fashion, Remus Lupin, I shall ensure that you   
  
cannot speak for a month."  
  
"And I've no doubt you could do it, too," he said frankly. He seemed...different, in   
  
this place, in that ridiculous costume. Dangerous in a way I'd never associated with   
  
Remus. He touched my arm.  
  
"Don't stare at me like that," he said.  
  
"I am not staring at you."  
  
"Yes you are. Like you're trying to decide whether to beat me to a pulp or let me get   
  
myself killed naturally."  
  
"I was not thinking that."  
  
"Stop arguing."  
  
"No."  
  
Remus laughed, then, but it was tinged with a hint of desperation. "So are you going   
  
to help me, Severus? Going to take my messages to Dumbledore and let me sleep here   
  
tonight and give me the money I need?"  
  
"Can I do otherwise?"  
  
"Not without blowing your cover."  
  
I will admit that this put me just slightly over the edge. I grasped him by the lapels   
  
of what turned out to be a black silk shirt -- not at all his usual style -- and   
  
lifted him to his feet. Off his feet.  
  
"If you ever say anything like that again, so help me I will shake you to death like   
  
the -- "  
  
"Dog I am?" he managed, breathlessly. "Go on, Severus. You've been wanting to beat me   
  
into the ground for twenty years. Here's your chance."  
  
I set him down.  
  
"You have no idea," I said, through clenched teeth. "I may not be popular or well-loved  
  
or pleasant, but I am not a Death Eater."  
  
His face paled. He touched my shoulder, and wouldn't meet my eyes.   
  
"I didn't mean to say you were. I was just joking," he said. His fingers pulled my   
  
sleeve away from my arm, tugged on it gently. "I meant your cover as a decent human   
  
being. I didn't mean to imply you were a Death Eater."  
  
"The last joke you made at school nearly killed me. This one insulted my morality. You   
  
do rack up the points with me, Remus," I said coldly, stepping back. He followed.   
  
"But I never mean it," he said, still looking miserable.  
  
"But it happens anyway, doesn't it?"  
  
He bowed his head, and I realised that I was tormenting a tired, frightened man.   
  
"It's the natural way of things. Gryffindors and Slytherins fight. It's what we do."  
  
"For Merlin's sake, Sev, we're not schoolboys."  
  
"We don't have to be."  
  
"So that's it, is it?" he demanded. "Severus Snape and Remus Lupin, great freedom   
  
fighters on the side of Light and Good, however reluctantly in some cases, and we   
  
can't even be friends because we were in different houses at school?"  
  
"It's more than that and you know it."  
  
"No, I don't! How many of us are left from school, Severus? That really give a damn   
  
about the world? James and Lily are /dead/ and Lucius Malfoy is practically the Dark   
  
Lord's lapdog and -- and Sirius is hiding out and Peter -- " His voice cracked. "Why   
  
do we have to be the heroes?"  
  
"Someone has to," I replied. I had never particularly thought of myself as a hero.  
  
Remus leaned forward, seeking comfort, and who was I not to give it? I put my hand on   
  
the back of his head, holding his face against my shoulder, my neck.   
  
"It's not like last time. There are only a few of us, just a handful, and half the   
  
wizards we could call on in better times are scared stupid," he said, and I felt his   
  
breath on my skin. I doubt he noticed that I tilted my head, just a touch, so that he   
  
fit better in the crook of my neck.   
  
"You're tired," I said. "You'll be the better for a good night's sleep."  
  
"Didn't you hear?" he asked. "We're not allowed to sleep. Constant vigilance and all   
  
that."  
  
"I can be vigilant for both of us," I said. I meant to ease him back onto the bed, but   
  
he clutched the collar of my dressing-gown, and suddenly we were both sprawled atop   
  
the counterpane. To add embarrassment to mild contusion, his molestation of my collar   
  
had forced my robe open at the chest.   
  
"Why do we always fight, Sev?" he asked. He touched my face with his hands.   
  
"I hold grudges and you antagonise me," I answered.  
  
"Yes, it's sort of a hobby," he said, and he kissed me.   
  
I remember being shocked to discover the scars on his body, when the silk shirt fell   
  
from his shoulders, when the hardwearing black denim slid from his legs. I think he   
  
saw my scars, too. We neither of us had any illusions about the sort of men we are,  
  
after that.   
  
Where his fingers touched, I was sure it must be magic, the way I felt; when he   
  
murmured things, outrageously romantic untruths, I was sure they must be some sort of   
  
spell, to make me believe that Remus, slight, wiry Remus -- who had needed me but   
  
never wanted me -- might find me something different when our clothes were off. When   
  
he could touch my shoulders, twine his legs in mine. It wasn't magic, but it felt like   
  
it. It might very well have been love.  
  
No, there are no illusions between us. We fight with each other; it's what we do. But   
  
we also fight shoulder to shoulder. We're soldiers, in our own way. And even a soldier   
  
has to have somewhere to call home.  
  
For me, home used to be the dim little rooms at Hogwarts, where I lived and worked.   
  
Now, I often think, Home is Remus Lupin.  
  
And I think, for him, it might be wherever I am.  
  
I like to believe that, at any rate.  
  
END 


End file.
